


A Moment's Worry

by spicywatson



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Light Angst, References to Drugs, Reminiscing, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:56:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23365810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicywatson/pseuds/spicywatson
Summary: Here she is on her wedding day, all dolled up and dressed in her gorgeous, sparkling gown, and she’s crying her makeup off. Barbara could laugh at her own ridiculousness.
Relationships: Tabitha Galavan & Barbara Kean, Tabitha Galavan/Barbara Kean
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	A Moment's Worry

Barbara always used to imagine herself getting married one day. Between daydreams of running a booming criminal enterprise and perhaps even launching her own club, she’d had fleeting images of herself dressed all in white, a ring sparkling on her finger.

But life unfurled in a disastrous way- part of it resulted from her own doing- and her anticipation for any sort of happiness crumbled.

Renee had been there with her during the darkest hour. Deep down she knew they were no good for each other but she couldn’t break the cycle. She’d taken the needle from her and curled up to ride out the overwhelming high.

They’d tried again years later. Pieced together the shards of their relationship after both of them had gotten clean. Jim had broken Barbara’s heart (yet again), so she’d thrown her engagement ring on the bedside table and cried in Renee’s arms. But it couldn’t last. They fought too often, and Barbara couldn’t bring herself to do anything other than lie in bed all day, under the covers with the curtains drawn.

She crawled back to Jim, to safety and familiarity. They fell back into that old routine. He kept her in the dark, going out to work at strange hours of the night, leaving her alone. All alone in the world, with no one listening to her. Every day she ached, her heart brittle and breaking in her ribcage.

In a delirious haze, Barbara killed her parents. She came to with a blood-speckled collar and a peculiar emptiness in her chest.

From there, it all went downhill even faster (as though such a thing was even possible).

But then, strapped to a gurney, she felt something flutter within for the first time in a long time, a warm rush of fascination and anticipation. This breathtaking woman, dressed all in shiny black leather, slashed her way through a man’s throat right before Barbara’s very eyes. She rose with her knife hanging loosely at her side, face splattered with crimson, wearing an amused, maniacal grin. She was absolutely intriguing. Bewitching.

Tabitha was something new. Something _dangerous._ Just what Barbara needed.

They were queens together. For a while. But like all good things, it fell apart. And to be honest, Barbara was not terribly surprised that she managed to destroy her own happiness yet again.

She remembers the thud of her own head against the wall, the splitting, aching sensation as the pain shuddered through her. The splash of grimy water and the crackle of electricity. The jolt that spiked through her entire body, paralyzing her, before it all went dark. 

Maybe she deserved it. This betrayal.

Barbara’s been hurt so many times, but this was the worst, like a knife had driven straight through her heart, twisting relentlessly. When she was resurrected and returned to Tabitha (as if by fate), things were different. Cold, empty, alone. She tried to pretend it didn’t break her heart but it _did._

She knew Penguin was going through a similar experience. But he managed to pull through and come out stronger than ever, reconnecting with his green, idiotic, one true love, the two of them falling for each other all over again. As much as she loathed them, Penguin’s and Nygma’s indestructible love and everlasting bond gave her hope for her own. If _they_ could find each other again, cling to each other and never let go, why couldn’t she and Tabitha?

But then again, even now that they’ve reconciled and rebuilt together, there’s still a lingering fear, a dread that creeps up on her in the middle of the night, that all will go wrong. Maybe Tabitha will change her mind about Barbara. Maybe she’ll dream of Butch and remember who it was that drove a bullet between his eyes. Maybe she’ll decide she wants _him_ back, flaws and all.

How long can it last?

Barbara slumps down onto the ivory armchair and buries her face in her hands. It’s not long before she’s sucking in shallow, shuddering breaths and hot tears begin slipping down her cheeks. Here she is on her wedding day, all dolled up and dressed in her gorgeous, sparkling gown, and she’s crying her makeup off. Barbara could laugh at her own ridiculousness.

There’s a knock on the dressing room door, making her startle. She rubs vigorously at her eyes, black mascara and sparkly eyeshadow smearing all over her hands. _Great._ “I’ll be out in a _minute,_ ” she snaps, wincing at how strained her voice sounds.

“It’s me,” comes Tabitha’s muffled voice, and Barbara has no time to slip out the window or even hide behind the curtains before she’s pushing the door open.

“Barbara?”

She sniffles and tries to turn in her seat so Tabitha can’t see her puffy eyes and streaked mascara, but it’s too late. She’s been caught.

“Babes, what happened?” Tabitha presses, kneeling before her despite the fact that her mermaid gown restricts her movement to a shuffle.

Between gasping sobs, Barbara manages to squeak out a response even _she_ knows is incoherent and incomprehensible.

Tabitha furrows her brow, apparently trying to decipher Barbara’s strangled words. “I don’t unders-”

“ _I- I can’t do it,_ ” Barbara finally chokes out, “I don’t deserve you…” _After all she’s done, how could she deserve her? How could she deserve anything other than bitter, empty solitude?_

“Barbara,” Tabitha says swiftly, tone firm and unwavering, her hands flying out to grasp Barbara’s wrists gently, “you _deserve_ love. _For once,_ let yourself be happy. Let go of that voice that’s telling you otherwise.”

“It- it’s _hard_ to ignore it,” Barbara squeaks, brows knitting together.

“Then I will spend the rest of our lives proving it to you. We’re in this together, remember?” Tabitha murmurs, dipping forward to touch her forehead to Barbara’s.

She manages a gentle nod in response, willing the remaining tears not to fall.

Tabitha offers a warm, affectionate smile. “Better?”

Barbara sucks in a deep breath and nods again.

Tabitha pauses a moment, studying her face. She rises suddenly, dress rustling as she steps away to the little dressing room’s bathroom. The squeak of a faucet, the splash of running water. Tabitha returns with a damp washcloth in one hand and a cup of water in the other.

“Let’s get you cleaned up a bit,” she says gently, dipping the cloth in the cup before carefully dabbing around Barbara’s eyes. She works slowly, gingerly, each stroke of the warm washcloth sweeping away mascara and sparkles, massaging the stress and sorrow away like a comforting caress. When she’s done, Barbara feels fresher, brighter, the warmth still lingering on her soft skin. Not to mention, the swelling in her heart is almost overwhelming.

Such a quiet moment between the two women speaks more than a thousand words. The feather-light touches, the comfortable closeness, the little smiles Tabitha casts her as she works, her eyes glimmering with gentle fondness.

Tabitha’s reaching for the eyeshadow now.

Barbara laughs. “I can do my own makeup, kitten.”

“Your hands are shaking,” Tabitha responds, arching an eyebrow.

Barbara’s not terribly upset, though. She bites her lip to hide her smile of satisfaction.

Tabitha swirls the fluffy brush around the palette and then carefully sweeps the shimmering bronze color above Barbara’s eyes, paying special attention to the creases. Barbara chokes down a giggle of happiness when Tabitha picks up another, smaller brush and dots it into Barbara’s very favorite pale pink eyeshadow. The sparkly one, of course. _God, this woman knows her so well._

Tabitha’s eyes flit up when she catches hint of Barbara’s barely-contained joy, and she grins knowingly in response. Once she’s done touching up around Barbara’s eyes with the glittering powder, she sets to lining her eyes with black with an incredibly steady hand. _So that’s how Tabby’s eyeliner always looks so immaculate,_ Barbara thinks.

“There,” Tabitha says softly, pulling away slightly to examine her work, a bright smile spreading across her lips as she takes Barbara in. “As beautiful as the day I met you.”

Barbara blushes brightly, lashes fluttering bashfully. She’s surprised she remembers, and even more surprised to hear that Tabitha had actually noticed her in her drab Arkham gown.

“Here,” Tabitha adds, pressing a mascara wand into her hands, “this will be easier if you do it yourself.”

“Thank you,” Barbara murmurs.

“Of course.”

And then Tabitha’s leaning forward, hands reaching to gently brush Barbara’s cheeks.

“Uh-uh,” Barbara sing-songs as she pulls just out of reach, “Save it for the altar.” She giggles, tapping a finger on Tabitha’s lips, but they’re so soft and plushy that Barbara doubts she can resist for long.

“Just one.”

“ _Fine,_ ” Barbara concedes, rolling her eyes with feigned exasperation, “one.”

She leans down and brushes her lips against Tabitha’s, humming happily as she softly returns the pressure. It’s warm, comforting, and a tremendous breath of relief. They keep it chaste, though, each hoping to save the passion for their first kiss as new wives. And then they rise together, hands clasped, Barbara’s heart feeling much lighter, floating on air.

“ _Don’t_ ruin your makeup again,” Tabitha teases, dropping another little kiss to her rosy cheek before releasing her and heading for the door.

Barbara hums, straightens her sparkling bodice, and lifts a handheld mirror to critically inspect her hair. Thankfully, it hasn’t been completely destroyed after all her crying and fretting.

“Hey.” 

Barbara looks up to meet Tabitha’s unwavering gaze.

“I _love_ you, Barbara,” Tabitha says, her words so earnest and purposeful that Barbara can feel it in her core.

Barbara smiles, wide and glittering, tears already dried on her cheeks. “I love you, too.” And maybe, _finally,_ Barbara lets herself believe.


End file.
